Asexual Voyeur :by ThColdEastWind
by The Cold East Wind
Summary: "Tell me. Tell me what you saw." John commanded softly. "I saw you...with her." Things get...well...interesting.


Sherlock walked up the steps at a snails pace, because the worlds only consulting detective was tired. He'd just finished running along the Theams, chasing two robbers that turned out to be sixteen and eighteen year old parkour traceurs as well as robbers.

Sherlock was getting too old for this, especially if he where doing it alone, which tonight he had been since John was on a date, and had flatly refused to come along. He said he hadn't been out on a proper date in ages and not even the queen was going to stop him.

"Look, I don't care if Hobie Noble, shows up at our door step, I'm not going."

"Hobie Noble? Honestly John that's a horrible analogy, Hobie Noble, is a children's ballad, from the 15th century, and not at all reaivent to our discussion."

"I was making a point..."

"Not a very good one."

"Maybe not but your clever and you know what I was trying to say."

"Be that as it may, I need you."

John gave him a look between hesitate doubt and frustration.

"No." It killed John, to hold his ground but he really needed to have some human contact, who was he kidding he needed to get laid and that wasn't going to happen running all over London with Sherlock, much as John wished it would. Oh the things he would do to that man. Stop it! John admonished himself. Naturally Sherlock did not take this well and told John, how sorry he would be if something accidentally happen to him.

"Fine, but if I die on your head be it."

"Really? Really Sherlock? Why would you even say that?"

"I'm just stating the obvious John, it could be dangerous." The smug bastard even managed to say it with a hint of innocence.

"Look can you just try to be careful for one night? I really need this."

"I'll do my best John, but I can't speak for the criminals." And with that he and his bloody Belstaff where down the steps and out the door. John had to fight down the urge to follow him, and was just about to grab his jacket, when his mobile rang. It was his date, letting him know that she was off earlier then expected if he wanted to get a jump on their night out.

The date went well, so well that they found their way back to Baker St, had a couple more drinks and soon found themselves the better part of naked by the fire in the sitting room. That was the scene that greeted Sherlock as he creeped up the steps, and peered up over the landing just out of sight. He hadn't meant to intrude, but he was captivated by what he saw. The woman in Johns arms seemed almost delirious with passion, whimpering and moaning, clinging to John for dear life, as his hands and lips seemed to flow like lava over her curves. Johns shirt was unbuttoned and pulled from his trousers, hanging open, the fire light bathed John, (and the young woman) in a golden glow. He looked surreal. Summer made flash. He lifted her by her waist and wrapped her legs around his middle, never ceasing the endless kisses to her neck, ear lobe, chin, lips, and began to head toward the steps. HEAD TOWARD THE STEPS, Sherlocks, mind screamed at him just in time for him to retreat into the darkness a few steps down and turn his head, so that his pale skin wouldn't give him away. John unaware of his presence below. Sherlock stood there in the dark, eyes closed trying to slow his breathing and stop the rising bulge he felt in his trousers, when a voice from above broke the silence, a cry, just one word. "John!" Sherlock practically fell backwards down the steps in his rush for the door.

Life went on as usual at Baker St. for the next few days, ears in the fridge, Sherlock at his microscope, and John on his blog. Molly called with the offer of a fresh cadaver that had been struck by lightening, and Mila, called John for a second date, more like a second roll in the sheets really, so the boys went their separate ways yet again. And much later that evening found themselves in much the same situation as as before. With one notable difference. This time was no accident on either of their parts. John hadn't planned on things going as far as they had with Mila, at lest not on the sofa in the sitting room, and Sherlock hadn't intended to come home in the small hours of the morning to find his flatmate at the brink of ecstasy staring right at him as he tipped over the edge. They had both had time to break away in that moment, Sherlock to turn and run and John to make his embarrassed excuses, but neither of them had. Instead Johns head come up and he locked eyes with Sherlock just above the landing again., watching, Johns face contorted in pleasure, fingers digging into the soft leather on the arm of the sofa as he arched his back and rolled his hips into the woman below him, driving rhythmic and hard to his release looking Sherlock straight in the eye the whole time. John dropped his head to catch his breath and closed his eyes. When he looked back up Sherlock was gone. He wanted the woman beneath him to leave, and never return. He wanted Sherlock and this, what he had been doing for years now, was a pale imitation.

The next morning John woak to find he had the flat to himself. He felt a twing of disappointments, he'd wanted to know what this new development meant for he and his flat mate. So what to do? If Sherlock had wanted to talk about last night he would have made himself available, his absence told John all he needed to know. That left John with only one option. Wait. He was sure that an opportunity would present itself sooner or later. So when he got home late from Bart's, to find the flat still devoid of a genius, his disappointment only deepened. John put the kettle on and hopped in the shower. Since he was alone he didn't bother with his dressing gown and just opted for a towel at his waist as he made his tea and headed up to his room. John couldn't help but wonder is Sherlock where ever coming home at this point. The thought made him laugh out loud. Sherlock leave Baker St.! Ha!

"Is it a private joke then?" John hadn't hear the foot steps come up behind him, but that rumbling voice so near his ear was unmistakable. He turned.

"Well if it isn't my little asexual voyeur."

"Is that what you think?"

"Am I wrong?"

"Very." Sherlock drug the word out longer then was necessary.

"Why are you here Sherlock? In my bedroom, while I'm naked." John asked with a bite of steel in his voice, as looked down at the towel that was barely hanging on to emphasize his point.

"Because, I saw..." Sherlock hesitated, dropping his gaze.

"Tell me. Tell me what you saw." John commanded softly.

"I saw you...with her."

"Go on. How did it make you feel?"

"Confused"

"Why?"

"Because...Because I wanted it to be me."

"Do you still want it to be you?"

"Yes."

"Take your clothes off."

Sherlock did as he was told. Removing his jacket, which John took and laid over his chair, he heeled off his soft leather shoes and pushed them aside with his foot, shirt next, which John also took, as he did with each piece of clothing, taking expert care not to touch Sherlock, as he did so. John circled his naked form like a vulture, not touching, yet so near Sherlock could feel his heat, the man radiated like the sun, and Sherlock burned, his skin a warm pink, and his treacherous, treacherous cock, swollen hard and jerking with each pounding anticipation of his heart. John stopped in front of him now, "You have to tell me what you want." John looked hungry, predatory, looking down at Sherlocks cock, chewing on his bottom lip, "when to stop. Because I want it all." Johns eyes traveled greedily up Sherlocks torso across the planes of his chest, up the column of his throat, lingering on his mouth finally reaching and diving into the now dark pools of his eyes. Sherlocks breath caught in his throat. Johns eyes where bright, and black as onyx all at once. Lustful and depraved.

"All. I want it all." Sherlock said desperately. John made a sound that was not quite breath, not quite hiss.

"Christ your mouthwatering. I could eat you alive."

"Touch me Jawn." Johns fingers itched to feel the rosey skin.

"Sherlock you have to be sure. Because I'll never be able to stop."

"Then don't stop." Sherlock reached out and looped his long fingers in to the bath towel that hung almost defiantly on Johns hips. They both watched it drop to the floor. Sherlocks heart rate doubled at the sight of the naked Doctor. John was stunning and was of extraordinary size. Mouthwatering indeed. John put his fingers lightly on Sherlocks elbow and let his hand run down and over the muscles of the younger mans arm, and his fingers slid into his palm, John led him to bed where he laid down like an offering to the gods. Feet flat on the floor, knees bent over the edge of the bed. John put just the tips of his fingers on Sherlocks knees, and with gentle pressure pushed his knees apart, John slid his flat palms up Sherlocks thighs, over his pelvic bone, bypassing his cock and tangle of dark silk curls altogether, coming to rest on his convulsing stomach muscles. John smiled.

"You have to be the most beautiful thing I've ever had in my bed." Sherlocks whole body flushed a lovely shade of pink. "Tell me what you want love."

"Kiss me." John obliged and placed a wet sucking kiss on the head of his cock. Sherlock almost jumped out of his skin. "Not what I meant, but amazing never the less."

"You think that's amazing?" John dropped his head and tried to swallow Sherlocks cock whole. He came rather close. Sherlocks back arced sharply and his head snapped back. "Oh god!" Johns cheeks hollowed in as he sucked deeply enjoying the hot satin weight of Sherlocks cock in his mouth. Johns eyes drifted closed and he lost himself in the up and down and up and down on Sherlocks cock, lingering kisses to the head and down his shaft, gently sucking his balls, all his sense overcome by Sherlocks smell, his taste, his feel and god the sound! The man was a litany of beautiful profanity and moans of "John oh god John."

"Please John"

"Please what love?"

"I need you."

"You have me." Johns voice was low as he ghosted all the words on Sherlocks cock, balls, inner thigh, "you have me, you've always had me, right from the start."

"I need to feel you." John came up above Sherlock in one swift move, bracing his hands on either side of his head, lowering his body just enough for their cocks to brush together. The feeling cracked like lightning in Johns veins, and his hips jurked abruptly with insane pleasure.

"Kiss me." Sherlock bid sweetly. This time John did as he was asked. Soft lips, that perfect mouth, so hot and giving. Sherlock lifted up to give back all the passion that John covered him in, pushing his hips up and trying to pull John lower, to grind their bodies together rutting against each other's cocks, percum, and sweat, covering them. Sherlock felt his whole world tilt on its axis, John, so hard and large, he wanted to feel his weight his length, inside his body.

"Oh god! Fuck. Me." John changed positions, planting his knees on either side of Sherlock hips, kissing down the hot flushed skin of his chest.

"Oh, beautiful, your not ready for that yet. I'll split you in two."

"John I sware to god if you don't fuck me, right now I'll kill you and they'll never find your body." John laughed deep and throaty, pushing off of him.

"I believe you love." He reacher in the bedside table and pulled out lube and a condom.

"No." Sherlock stilled his hand. "I'll never have anyone but you. I want to feel you inside me. Please."

John took Sherlocks face in his hands burying his fingers in his curls and stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones, their lips brushing, "I love you. Do you hear me? I love you, more then anything in this world or the next." Sherlocks eyes glistening with tears as he smiled up at the man who'd made him whole.

"And I love you. Now Fuck me." Deep and raspy. A beautiful flush on his beautiful cheeks. John sucked breath through his teeth and pushed Sherlocks knees open and pulled him by the bend of his legs up into his lap resting his bottom on his thighs, exposing the tight ring of muscles, Sherlock gasped at being man handed with such force, and he could swear that his cock got harder for it. But that's when all thought ceased. John was slowly, working a finger into his body and it was all. Shit. Sherlock couldn't think, he could bearly breath, all he could do was push into Johns palm and beg for more, it was hell, it was heaven. It was more then he could have imagined. Slowly a second finger was added and John hissed and curesd as Sherlocks cock jumped when he hit his prostate and cried out his back arched rocking and grinding his hips. "Oh god John yes! Shitshitshit. Please, please." All the while rocking hard trying to find his release. John placed his hand flat on Sherlocks belly, and pushed deeper into him, Sherlock frantically reached for Johns cock.

"Ahh, ahh, fuck, John John, shit, please."

"Shhhh. Whatever you want love."

John slid his fingers out of him, covered his cock in lube, and pushed slow and steady into Sherlocks welcoming heat. John couldn't breath, his stomach clinched, his body jerked, his fingers bit into Sherlocks slim hips and he almost lost his mind at the sight of his cock disappearing into Sherlocks body, he looked up to see the younger mans head pressed into the pillow gripping the bed sheets and crying.

"Oh god no! Love I'm so so sorry."

Sherlock felt as if he where coming apart at the steams, the pain was blazing but there was something just at the edge of it something calling to him something that pulled him in, that craved more.

"Don't. Stop." Sherlock was panting and clutching Johns forearms.

"We have to stop, I'm killing you. I told you your not ready."

"Is your cock going to get any smaller?" Sherlock managed a soft chuckle.

"Doubtful." John laughed low.

"Then fuck me John." The use of his name in that statement was more then he could bare. John pulled his hips back and made a sharp snap that jerked Sherlocks head back into the pillow. Sherlocks grip tightened on Johns arms, and he wrapped his legs around Johns waist, rocking up to meet his thrusts digging his heel into his back, John shifted the tilted of Sherlocks hips seeking his center, wrapping his arms around his slender waist driving into him. They moved together feeding off each other's need.

There was no space no breath left between them they moved as one they lived and died as one. Sherlocks breath caught and jurked in his throat as John pushed him closer. Sinner sweet passion feeding his soul. Closer. Hips rolling. Closer. Chest heaving. Closer. Begging. Closer. Sweet beautiful painful madness. Quiet fire seared through his limbs as John took hold of his cock and worked him tight and steady in his fist.

"Cum for me beautiful," Johns voice was gravel. "your so close, that's it, that's it. Holy fuck your gorgeous." The words caught in Johns throat as the sight of Sherlocks white hot cum spilling over his fist, pushed him to his own undoing. Waves broke hard over John as he felt his heat fill Sherlocks body as they both screamed out each other's names lose in the grips of their exquisite love. They lay there silently grinning at one another like the fools that they where, Johns hand rested on Sherlocks hip, Sherlock trailing his fingers over Johns face, John captured his fingers in his hand and kissed them. He was pulled from his lust spent haze by the sound of Sherlocks laughter. John looked at him with a questioning sluggish smile.

"That was amazing." Sherlock smiled and winked.

"Do you thinks so?" John played along, smiling back at his love.

"Of course it was. Extraordinary, it was quit extraordinary."

"That's what people usually say."

"Piss off." Sherlock said playfully as he leaned in to kiss John.


End file.
